


I know you believe in me (that's all I ever need)

by timetravelingsherlockian



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Bill is a Good Dad, Empowering your past selves, Gen, Post-Face the Music, Ted is a Good Dad, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetravelingsherlockian/pseuds/timetravelingsherlockian
Summary: Ready T?Ready B?B: Sometimes, you have to help yourselves.T: Sometimes literally.B: Or help your step-mom—T: —Who is also your sister-in-law—B: —Who is our aunt—T: —And also our grandmother—B: —Dude, that’s weird, T.T: Keep on the narration, B.B: Oh, yeah. Right. Sometimes, you have to help yourself.T: Or family.B: This is the story of our dad’s most entertaining evening.T&B: When they babysat themselves.For one night, Bill & Ted get the dads they deserved.
Relationships: Billie Logan & Ted "Theodore" Logan, Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	1. INT./EXT. San Dimas (LOGAN RESIDENCE)—Spring 1982, Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to lou who directed me to [this post](https://hgedits.tumblr.com/post/628558648892882944/now-im-a-grown-man-with-a-child-of-my-own-and-i), and Tiptapricot added this:  
> “Bill.... bill and ted traveling through time and seeing their kids before they’re born and like.... Ted’s like.... wow I end up actually being a good dad?”
> 
> I thought…what if they visit themselves? And it came out of my head (mostly).
> 
> Content warning for: Officer Logan’s internalized homophobia (enough to be hard-to-avoid). Cut-off F-slur. Accidental mis-gendering (complete ignorance, not malice; the characters haven't (yet) met). Vague allusions to arrest of people who probably don’t deserve it. 
> 
> Tl;dr: If being in Officer Logan’s head bothers you too much, skip to the second and third chapters for the fun stuff! (When it’s posted.)
> 
> If you don’t want to be reminded of toxic masculinity or internalized homophobia today, this fic should probably be put on your ‘read later’ list, if you want.
> 
> (It’s not that dark, I swear!)

_FADE IN: The Universe_

_Ready T?_

_Ready B?_

_B: Sometimes, you have to help yourselves._

_T: Sometimes literally._

_B: Or help your step-mom—_

_T: —Who is also your sister-in-law—_

_B: —Who is our aunt—_

_T: —And also our grandmother—_

_B: —Dude, that’s weird, T._

_T: Keep on the narration, B._

_B: Oh, yeah. Right. Sometimes, you have to help yourself._

_T: Or family._

_B: This is the story of our dad’s most entertaining evening._

_T &B: When they babysat themselves._

_INT./EXT. San Dimas (LOGAN RESIDENCE)—Spring 1982, Evening_

*ring*

Two middle-aged men were standing outside Officer Logan’s door. His lawn was smoking slightly behind them. Some _hooligan_ installed a garish-red _public_ phone booth on his _private_ yard. Officer Logan was going to have to call the telephone company—or better yet, the city—tomorrow but right now—

“How’s it hangin’ dad!” “How’s it hangin’ Officer Logan, dude?”

“Can I help you two?” He said in a tone that, in his professional opinion, hopefully (and reliably) conveyed that his help was probably not worth the trouble. And they best go off help themselves. Elsewhere. Outside his jurisdiction. And his _yard_. (He put a lot of work into that yard.) Maybe they were lost?

Could he arrest them for a crime of fashion? Surely, there must be some code for a self-respecting man sporting a crop-top over the age of 40…Gross indecency? Disturbance of the peace?

(Was that nail polish…?)

The long-haired hippy leans towards him. His breath smells like processed cheese dust. “Sir—I mean, dad—” he leans back. Half coughs a couple of times, “you can do this, Ted.” The other one whispers. The hippy (Ted?) leans forward, trying again, “the question is—uh, dad—can we help you?” The man flops his arms.

“No, you cannot. Now, I’ll have you trespassing—” he starts to swing the double-bolted door.

“Most-heinous.” Crop-top mutters (really, he wouldn’t look half respectable if he just smartened up with a suit-and-tie).

“Dad—”

Really, could these two just go away? He had to get down to the station—would be late for “training”. (Like he needed more training to do his _job_. His real training was out on the street. Dealing with hooligans and miscreants like _these_.)

“We know you need a babysitter, Officer Logan.”

“What?” The door stops.

“Uh…” Crop-top stumbles.

“Missy told us she wouldn’t be able to make it tonight,” Ted(?) picks up, “Missy can be real, uh, boring—”

“If she shows up.”

“So we came all the way from the future—”

“—to fill in for her!” The hippy holds his arms out wide. Smiles like he was smoking something Officer Logan would prosecute him for. Crop-top matches the _ridiculous_ pose.

“No-thank-you!” Officer Logan starts to turn away. _Maybe these two would-be do-gooders would just leave… Where did he put his keys…_

“You wouldn’t want to leave your son at home alone, would you?” It’s the tall one. He’s dropped his smile. And it’s that disturbing-parent voice. The different-kind of menacing one. The one he became too-familiar with when he was drug off to Theodore’s parent-teacher conferences and he got standing next to the stay-at-home Stacies and cocktail Lindas, who spent all their time reading those propaganda parenting-books about how you had to be all _soft_ on your “sweet little _dar_ lings”—like that would help them when they hit the real world—and thinking they knew how to raise **his own son** better than _him_. It was the voice that said, _“that’s ir-_ re _-sponsible”_ and threatened to call child services—or worse, their husbands—for again, _his own **goddamn son**_. Like, _‘they have kids and they would parent_ them _better’_. Like he didn’t know how to parent **_his own son_**.

He turned back to the two miscreants darkening his front door.

And, Jesus, did that mean _this man_ had a _kid?_ The thing must be a real hooligan. Disappointment to society. The man’s kid will probably be 24 and living in his dad’s basement, for Christssakes!

“Something that could happen that is most-heinous,” Crop-top nods. Like he was actually Concerned about what could happen to some strange kid who was already in middle school. Someone had the poor taste to screen print two splotchy horses on that thing.

“Yeah, real bogus, du—I mean, dad,” the tall hippy looked down at him. It was disconcerting. The soft, tall man looking down at him. Officer Logan wasn’t used to be looked down upon. Especially with that much…sincerity. And Emotion. Big men like that shouldn’t get those emotions. Especially in their eyes like that. Real men didn’t let their eyes get like _that_. Except this giant hippy taking up his doorstep was too big and too tall to be anything else. He gripped his wrist. Big, watery, sincere eyes.

It made Officer Logan a little sick. Holding eyes with this man. It was almost like what those f—

It wasn’t what real men, like Officer Logan did.

“Besides, you forgot to feed him pizza.”

“Or dinner, yet,” Big-eyed hippy coughed, let go of his wrist (thank God!), “I’m sure you just forgot. Busy.

“And Bill’s coming over,” he turned those too-big watery eyes on someone else (who seemed, unfortunately, absolutely immune), “We can’t leave you without pizza, dude.”

_That kid…?_ The thought crossed his mind, _Again?_ He watched it floating, like a little cloud…like those weirdos in funny colorful robes said he should do on TV _..._ He felt all alone and floaty. Like this wasn’t happening. Like all this was happening to someone else.

“We’ll have to call it in.”

“We were most victorious dude.”

“Double cheese!”

The two full-grown men blocking his doorstep had a seizure.

“Oops, dad,” the hippy looked at his (wound) watch.

“Oh, bogus! You’ll be late!” The hippy slapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped.

Checked his own watch.

5:47!

They were right!

Training starts sharp at 6:00!

“You better run, dad!”

Keys clattered.

He shoved them in the car door.

“We’ll take care of the younger us-es!” Crop-top called.

“And don’t take I-2—” Officer Logan didn’t hear what the big man said after that. He was already starting his patrol car and revving for—no! backward! Put it in reverse! (Get it together man…)

No matter how jeebied he felt about some grown stranger calling him “dad”.

Crashing over the oversized neighborhood-rounded curbs.

He didn’t even remember to close his front door.

Or notice the two time travelers having another celebratory air-guitar seizure before they pranced through their front door.

He didn’t even remember to fume about it when he got stuck in I-210 traffic the next 20 minutes. (And it was because of an accident, so he couldn’t even put on his lights and run the emergency strip.

He _was_ late. And he was furious.)


	2. INT. Logan Residence (SAN DIMAS)—Spring 1982, Evening (cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange things are afoot at the Logan residence.
> 
> Bill & Ted meet Bill & Ted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said there would be three chapters, but the second chapter was looking much longer than the others, so I decided to split the middle one up a bit, for balance.

_INT. Logan Residence (SAN DIMAS)—Spring 1982, Evening (cont.)_

“Who are you?” 

“I’m you from the future, dude.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Wait—If he was here, Bill would ask something. Something really smart. (Bill always had the best ideas.) “If you’re me from the future,” he put a finger to his temple and squinted his eyes, “what am I thinking?”

“You’re thinking, if you’re here right now, how can you be from the future, dude.”

That was exactly what he was thinking. “Whoa.”

“You’ll totally understand when you’re older, little Ted-dude.”

There wasn’t a creak, but there was a little _thump_ from where the window in Ted’s room came down. “Ted, are you here? I’m here. I saw your dad’s car drive past my house and—” The kid stopped. His sleeves of his shirt were cut off. He was wearing a faded-purple baseball cap that now kinda looked pink with the duck-bill brim resting on his neck. Light curls peaked through the adjustable strap. He stared up at the two adults with wide eyes. Glanced at Ted, who seemed okay, if a little (was that _awe?_ Not a normal face he’d see on Ted. But he’d seen all of Ted’s faces, at this point. Even the grumpy concerning ones.)—let’s say dazzled. It looked like a dazzled face. Nothing like his bumped-into-his-dad or his-dad-was-on-him-again or little-Deacon-just-took-something-of-his or his-dad-just-cut-his-hair-again faces. Those were bogus faces, in Bill’s opinion. _Most_ bogus faces. “Who are…”

“Oh! Bill, meet old-Bill and old-Ted. They’re from the future, dude.”

“That is most,” _what’s the opposite of bad? Like, really bad. Like his dad would say._ “non-heinous, dude.” Because it seemed like that’s how they punctuated things in the future, dude.

“We’re you guys,” the shorter, curly-haired one said with a smile, “Missy put us in charge tonight.”

“But not, like, real in-charge,” the long-haired one (Old-Ted—he could still recognize himself standing further away by the countertop, even if he was kinda balding in the back and most ancient) clarified. It looked kinda like a girl. Ted’s dad would be _so_ over him for that. Or like one of those people his and Ted’s dads would complain about on TV. But really, Bill had only ever seen it on rock stars. Which, all-in-all, in Bill’s book (not that he really, like, understood books—the words kept moving. Which was, they agreed—most-heinous and devious of the words—though Ted was sure they didn’t mean it), made it pretty cool.

“Because we’re you guys.”

“And we already did, what you guys are going to do. Right Bill?”

“Right Ted!”

“Yeah, dude, so you’re in charge of you,” he pointed like a poster. He dropped his arm and they flopped around a bit, like how Ted didn’t know where to put them, “so we can’t be in-charge of ourselves.” He finished.

“Excellent!”

“Does that mean we get to play records—”

“And watch movies—”

“And microwave skittles—”

“—dudes?”

Old-Bill ruffled his hair, “like we said—”

“—you can do anything you want—”

“—our most excellent younger-selves.”

He was feeling excited now. Most excited. When he crossed the suburban wilderness this evening to crawl through Officer Logan Sir’s most-unnaturally-square bushes, he brought a cassette to maybe sneak through Ted’s window and listen to his Walkman together, half an extraordinarily-loud earphone each. Maybe he could watch Missy or movie or something (Deacon wouldn’t care. Ted’s little brother didn’t care about _anything_ ). Or maybe Missy would forget to show up, get distracted at school or something, and he would stand on Ted to reach the chicken nuggets in the freezer. But now…

Bill realized the implications—and the whole of San Dimas opened in front of him. Like Electric Light Orchestra's rhapsodic chords after “Summer and Lightning.” They could do _anything_. Use Officer Logan Sir’s record player. Eat take-out pizza with **_double_** _-cheese_.

Bill was most excited, indeed. He bounced on his toes.

“I better remember to order the pizza!” Old-Bill strolled (It was a stroll. Old and familiar. Like not a care in the world. Because he was an adult, now.) over to Ted’s-dad’s receiver and picked it up.

“Do you still remember the number?”

“Sure dude! Who can forget _Excellent Pizza_. Um, hello, I would like one—”

“Bill!”

Old-Bill put his hand over the receiver, “yeah Ted?”

“I remembered! We need to order 2”—holds up his fingers—“pizzas.”

“D’you remember why, dude?”

“No. I just remembered that I needed to remember to remind you!”

“Oh, thanks dude!” he took his hand off the speaker and stuck his thumb up, “—Two _Bodacious Classics_ , extra cheese—”

“One with pepperoni—”

“—one with pepperoni, please. To be delivered to the Logan residence. Yes, we are absolutely legal adults ordering this pizza. Uh, can we pay cash when it gets here, dude? Right. What else would we pay with. Not like you could pay in credit or anything. Right. 15-20 minutes? Okay. Catcha-later Excellent-Pizza-dude!” He clicked back the receiver, “It’ll be here in 15-20 minutes, my dudes. What would you like to do until then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song after Electric Light Orchestra's “Summer and Lightning” (1977) is the eternal classic “Mr. Blue Sky.”
> 
> The pizza parlor’s name is from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure cartoon. Thank you Cool Tip for knowing & suggesting this!

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes:
> 
> I have the last chapter written up and most of the second.
> 
> The title comes from Van Halen’s “Top of the World,” which came out in 1991 (so only old!Bill&Ted would know it), but the lyrics were just too perfect.
> 
> I-210 is [a real highway](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Dimas,_California#Geography:~:text=The%20Foothill%20Freeway%20\(I%2D210\)%20connects%20the,to%20Orange%20County%20and%20the%20beaches.) that connects the town to Pasadena and the San Fernando Valley.
> 
> Bill & Ted’s ages were taken from the Bill & Ted wiki. 
> 
> Catcha later, dudes!


End file.
